


I will trust in your loving cares (I will serve you til the end)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: BDSM AU [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Sex, Communication, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Safeword Use, Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian has to use his safeword, discussions are had.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: BDSM AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555642
Comments: 13
Kudos: 98





	I will trust in your loving cares (I will serve you til the end)

**Author's Note:**

> I missed yesterday, but I'll get something written for it, don't worry!  
> As per the tags, safeword use and it is respected!  
> Enjoy!  
> ***   
> Due to a conflict with the host's behavior, I have removed all of my works from the kin week collection.

Roger pushes down on his arm. Brian pants but his chest is starting to get tight and not in a fun away. He shakes his hand and focuses on matching Roger’s thrusts. Roger’s hand lift off his arms, and it gets placed next to his head. John looks up from where he has his head buried between Freddie’s thighs.

For a moment John meets Brian’s eyes. Brian sends him a cheeky wink, John keeps eye contact for a moment longer before smiling and swiping his tongue up Freddie’s prick. Roger changes his angle and Brian’s attention snaps back to the blond.

“So good,” Roger breathes.

Roger’s hand comes around his wrists. Brian tenses but Roger readjusts and puts one hand on his forearm. Freddie moans loudly and Brian glances at him with a tiny smile. Freddie’s head is thrown back in pleasure and John looks deeply focused on his task.

Once more Roger shifts, apparently having trouble finding Brian’s sweet spot today. Not that Brian minds too much, everything still feels very nice. This time when his hand comes down it pins Brian’s hand to the pillow. He stiffens opening his mouth to remind Roger and his safeword on the tip of his tongue.

Roger squeezes.

“Starlight!” He shouts.

Roger pulls out and is away from him almost instantaneously. Both John and Freddie take a second longer to realize what had been said. They break apart from each other but are less quick to move away. Brian curls up, keeping his hands near his chest and fight against trembling visibly.

“Brian?” John calls.

He shakes his head, moving his sticky tongue, “30.”

Roger is the first out of the door, parting with a wide-eyed and tearful stare. Freddie lets his hand over above Brian’s shoulder before he too shimmies of the bed. John lingers for a moment longer before stepping away and out of the door.

Alone now, Brian hears his heart in his ears and his heart in his throat. He can faintly hear the others talking. Slowly he flexes out each finger and curling them again, picking up in speed each time until the sensation of being pinned is gone. Once his heart has gone back to his chest, he stands shakily and shuffles to the joined bathroom.

He turns on the faucet, waiting until there is steam wafting up from the stream of water. Brian places a rag underneath it, pulling his hand away when it stings. He stares at his fingertips wondering why the water hurt before he made the connection that it was too hot. He shakes his head.

 _It isn’t a big deal,_ Brian reminds himself.

By now, he should be over having anyone touch his hands. Hell, before he got together with his current partners, he had gone through an entire scene with his hands behind his back. To be fair, he hasn’t done it since and his anxiety about it has been worse – Brian shakes his head. This shouldn’t bother him anymore.

He turns on the cold tap and pulls out the soap that Roger prefers. It has a soft rose scent to it. Not aggressive and gentle on the sink, one of Roger’s preferred brands for aftercare. Once the rag is at a comfortable temperature he lathers it up but slowly rubbing it up and down his body.

At some point, Roger is going to insist on proper aftercare. He nearly cries when he realizes that he shivers when he thinks about Roger’s hands back on him. Brian swipes the rag between his legs before throwing it almost violently into the hamper. It makes a quiet _slop_ sound before it falls in.

His back hit the wall and he slides down it, his hands pulling through his hair disrupting the curls. He pushes his knees to his chest, flexing his toes into the shag rug. It’s only then that he really notices the fact that he’s naked as the strands tickle his bum.

Brian presses his head back against the wall and breathes in and out on a ten count. His brain is feeling fuzzy and not in the fun floaty way it usually gets after sex. He stares up at the light fixture, again noticing a little belatedly that he hasn’t turned on the light.

His hands shake again. How pathetic does one have to be to sit on the floor of a dark bathroom shaking because someone – someone who he trusts and loves dearly – dared to hold his hand during sex. He looks away towards the bathtub.

Someone knocks on the door. Brian perks up but doesn’t move to answer it.

“It’s Freddie,” the voice says quietly.

Brian relaxes slightly, “I need another 10 minutes.”

“Okay, love.”

When he hears footsteps fade away Brian lets out a long breath pressing his palms to his eyes. He knows they’re going to ask, at the very least to confirm why he safeworded and this time he has a feeling they’re going to push a little harder than they usually do about the issue with his hands being manipulated or restrained during sex.

Brian wants to tell them, but every time he thinks about doing so, the words get caught in his throat. It hasn’t been a problem either, they seemed to catch the hint without him having to explain what is so upsetting about it. He shifts over, opening the door a crack. The bedroom is still empty and he opens the door a little more.

By the time he counts to nine minutes and forty-seven seconds, he is much calmer. The repetitive nature of numbers an easy trick to numb his head from the buzzing of expectation from the conversation that is about to happen. He stands, his knees popping having been bent most of the time he has been _not hiding_ – he reminds himself that he wasn’t hiding – and steps back into the bedroom.

Brian avoids staring at the bed, where there is still evidence of what they had been up to. Instead, he steps lightly towards the dresser and pulls out a soft pair of pants and a jumper. He sinks into the feeling of being dressed and is pulling on thick socks when the door opens again.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were out of the bathroom!” Freddie says.

He tenses but forces himself to relax, “it’s okay.”

Freddie pushes open the door a little more. He has also gotten dressed, in one of John’s shirts it looks like and a pair of boxers that were probably in the laundry room. For now, he remains at the threshold of the room.

Brian nods once and Freddie steps in and shuts the door. It doesn’t click, but it also doesn’t swing open. He leans against the dresser and tilts his head.

“Are you okay to have the others in here?”

“I’ll go out there,” Brian says, “I’m fine now.”

Freddie purses his lips.

“I’m fine to be near them,” Brian amends.

“Okay, love,” Freddie smiles gently, “are you okay to talk about it?”

“I should be…”

“Don’t push yourself, I’ll go give them a warning.”

Brian nods and once Freddie is gone, leaving the door open a tiny crack, he puts his hands on the tops of his head and paces for a few seconds before jumping once and shaking out the nerves through his fingertips. With one more fortifying breath he steps out of the bedroom.

The heat has been turned up in the house, which he is grateful for. He tugs the jumper around him together before shuffling towards the living room where he can barely make out a conversation. He pushes his hands in the singular pouch as he turns the corner.

One of the chairs is left open, but John and Roger are curled around each other on the couch while Freddie sits on the arm behind John. Roger looks up when he enters, guilt swimming in his eyes. Brian offers a tiny smile and Roger nearly deflates.

“Hey,” John greets, he tilts his head towards the chair.

In a rare act of rebellion, he stays propped against the wall. The corner digs into his spine, but he is fine with it for now. John purses his lips but otherwise doesn’t react. Brian runs a finger over the seam in the pocket.

He chews on his bottom lip trying to think about the best way to phrase it. The others are going to let him start the conversation. Brian pulls at a thread in the seam and rubs his back across the corner.

“Roger grabbed my hand,” Brian says.

Roger looks down towards the floor, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Brian inclines his head.

It freaked him out, but he wasn’t upset. Honestly, he is surprised that it has taken this long for the issue to come up during sex, but maybe it’s a testament to the others and how well they respect his boundaries.

“Bri,” John says softly, “you don’t have to, but why…”

John pauses as though to figure out how to phrase the question.

“Why do I freak out every time my hands get pinned or bound during sex?”

The three of them wince, and Brian wishes he had been a little more delicate with his phrasing like John was obviously attempting to. Brian presses his arms into the soft of his belly. This is the most perfect excuse to talk about it that he is going to get. He doesn’t want to back out of it now.

“When I was in secondary school, and when I think about it, it was probably because I was ‘different,’ but one day,” Brian sighs, frustrated.

He looks at his partners who are watching him openly, but there is no judgment or frustration in their gazes. Brian moves on hand out of his pocket and runs it through his hair. His thoughts are scattering around and it takes more effort than he would like to pull himself together to get a coherent explanation together.

“These boys decided to tie my hands behind my back and shove me in a closet, apparently it was an old hazing ritual, but,” Brian shrugs, “the entire time I could only think about my hands being permanently damaged and how I would never be able to play the guitar again.”

Brian inhales and closes his eyes trying to ignore the rush of memories. He remembers the terror of being locked in a tiny closet with no ability to use his hands. The single lightbulb had been dim and swung above him, casting strange and terrifying shadows.

“And thankfully all that happened was they were sore for a few days. Except I can’t imagine what would have happened if the janitor hadn’t needed to get into the closet about fifteen minutes after I had been thrown in there.”

Saying it aloud makes it sound so much worse. He didn’t have trouble in small places or in the dark or people coming up behind him. Just things going around his hands. It wasn’t _that_ bad, and Brian shakes his head knowing what Freddie would say. That it was bad enough for him and that his feelings are valid.

“Thank you for telling us,” Freddie says softly.

Brian sags now that no more explanation is required from him. The explanation had taken more energy than he possessed after the event in the bedroom.

“Do you mind if I run you a bath?” Roger says.

He is leaning on the edge of the couch and biting his bottom lip. The guilt is swimming in his eyes and Brian wants to cry because he hadn’t meant to upset Roger. They just needed it out in the open.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Brian nods.

Roger jumps up and hurries to the bedroom. He sends a questioning look to John and Freddie who waves him in the direction that Roger vanished in. This entire thing is still so new and fragile, and he doesn’t want to be the one that breaks this. He loves this relationship and he loves this band and now they’ve become so intimately entwined that he doesn’t think that one can survive without the other.

He watches Roger test the water and adjust it with practiced ease. He sticks his finger underneath the water and pulls it out. There is almost a manic energy about getting the water temperature right.

“Roggie,” he calls.

Roger jumps but turns towards him.

“Come here.”

Part of him expects Roger to deny the request but he puts the stopper into the tub before shuffling over. Brain opens his arms and Roger falls into the embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I know,” Brian replies, “it’s okay. You stopped and now you know.”

Roger nods. There is some dampness on his shirt. He runs his hand up and down Roger’s back, swaying in place.

“Really, Rog, I’m okay now.”

“It’s going to take me a bit to get that image out of my head,” Roger replies.

Brian doesn’t know what image he’s talking about, either how panicked he looked when he called the safeword or the truth that Brian gave him only a few minutes ago.

“Bathe with me?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Roger looks up with shining eyes filled with hope. Brian leans down and places a gentle kiss on his nose, which earns him the brilliant smile that he was hoping for.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

He eagerly returns the kiss that Roger gives him. It’s soft and sweet and there isn’t any expectation to it. They need this private time together to get their balance back, but Brian is already ready to curl in bed with their other half.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr!


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